You Made The Stars Fall
by fuckinghawthorne
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is given some startling news following the death of her grandparents. Struggling to look after her mentally ill sister, ease her father's stress, and maintain the loving friendship she has with her best friend, Katniss is caught between two worlds: the one she's always known, and the one she's always hated. The choice proves harder than she'd have ever thought.
1. Prologue

**First WIP in awhile. Idea taken from a prompt on tumblr. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Stop asking me if you can kiss Gale. **

* * *

><p>If you think about it, neither of us should be alive right now.<p>

Gale's foot is pressing too hard on the gas pedal, the road is going by too fast, and the turns that he's making are too sharp for his old pickup to physically handle. He doesn't seem to care, though. I can't say that I care very much, either. I'm probably a little too drunk, a little too high, and nowhere near sober enough to let my fears overcome the thrill I'm feeling right now.

"Faster!" I yell at him, grabbing his thigh. I force his leg down on the gas pedal, and he screams as we zoom past the county limit sign.

"Fuck you, Panem!" he hollers at the rear-view mirror. I laugh and throw my hand out my window, lazily raising my middle finger at the town behind us.

"Keep driving!" I say. He grins at me manically, his eyes bloodshot and wild.

"I don't ever want to stop," he promises.

There's only farmland stretching around us now. The farther we follow the road past these orderly fields and the dark woods surrounding them, the brighter the stars are looking. They're better out here, in the dark. More shiny. The light of our town can't touch them, and if I crane my neck just the right way, I can make out the constellations that would otherwise be invisible to me from my bedroom window.

Gale stares out of the windshield, slowing the truck to a somewhat-legal speed. "Left or right?" he asks.

It's a game that he and I have played ever since he bought this truck. On nights like this one, nights when we're driving to get _out_, to get _away _from everything, we don't pick a spot to go to and then drive to it. We just go until we want to turn around, however far that may be. We don't pay attention to the names of places, just the direction that we want to go; one road at a time.

"Right," I say.

He makes a swift turn at the stop sign I didn't even see, not bothering to do anything more than tap the brakes. The road's deserted anyways. Panem County never gets much incoming traffic, and any cops that should be patrolling around here in the dead of night don't get paid enough to care about two reckless teenagers.

"Are you feeling better yet?" Gale asks, slurring his words a little. He takes one hand off the wheel and searches for mine in the dark. I grab it without hesitation.

"Yeah," I laugh, squeezing his palm. "Less..." my mind completely blanks on the word I want. I search for a little while until I find it. "Stuck," I finish, almost a full minute later.

"Stuck," Gale repeats, keeping his eyes on the road. "Stuck. Stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck." His voice trails off into nothing, although the mantra continues in my head.

_Stuck. _

_Stuck. _

_Stuck. _

_Stuck!_

"You wanna know what Prim said to me today?" I say abruptly. I don't bother to see if Gale even nods before I continue. "She said that if I wasn't such a _fucking __bitch_, Mom would still be around."

I turn my heavy head toward Gale, and try to focus his blurry features into clarity. He seems to be frowning. "Prim didn't mean it," he says slowly. "I'm gonna choose left this time."

We swing onto another nameless road, much wider and with more lanes than the one we've been on. Gale takes the emptiness as a cue to go faster.

"Prim never means it," I say. I look out my window for a bit, watching the trees whizzing by until they make my head spin. "That's her problem," I mumble. "She never means anything she says."

"Well you can't blame her for that," Gale reminds me. "And besides, you never mean anything bad that _you_ say, either."

I grip his hand tighter, bringing our fingers up to rest against my cheek. His thumb strokes my face lightly, and I close my eyes. "You're an asshole, Gale," I say loudly. "And I mean that."

His laughter fills the cab, and I let mine fall out too. These are the moments that I live for, rare as they may be. Nothing but darkness, the road, and my best friend accompanying me with an optional high of either (or both) weed and alcohol. The euphoria I always feel as we leave the town is a high in and of itself, so the amount of shots and hits I took tonight aren't ever necessary. I know it's dangerous, and more than stupid, but sometimes I can't get out of town fast enough. These are just the ways that I let my mind free itself from some of the stress before my body can.

My mind goes on autopilot for who knows how long, leaving me in somewhat of a stupor as I stare at the road ahead of us. All of a sudden a bright light fills my sight, and I groan as Gale jerks the truck sharply to the right. A horn blares at us, but it quickly fades away as we pass each other.

"Were you driving on the wrong side of the road?" I say drowsily.

Gale blinks out the windshield. "I don't- I don't know..." he says. "Maybe."

Instead of the paralyzing fear I should be feeling, I only feel more relaxed at his words. "As long as we're still on the road," I yawn.

It's only eleven pm, early by any teenage standard, and so I refuse to allow myself to think about sleeping yet. I just sit, holding Gale's hand and silently stare out at the inky black sky. The silence is what I treasure most on these trips. It's not a cold silence, like the ones that occur at home. It's never icy, never hostile. It's just.. quiet. I like it this way.

Of course Gale has to go and break it. "Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No," I say. And it's true. All I've eaten today was a half of a bagel for breakfast, a meal that usually fills me for a solid 24 these days.

"Well, I am. We're gonna stop at the next town."

"Okay," I sigh. The next town is still at least a fifteen minute drive away. We don't talk until we get there, which I'm fine with. The cab is warm, the night is clear, and I'm with my best friend. What more could I want?

* * *

><p>Apparently, a 20-piece chicken nugget box and a chocolate milkshake.<p>

By the time Gale pulls into town, (a large sprawling city called Capitol), and steers us aimlessly until we find a drive-through, I'm ravenous. "Get me one of everything," I tell him seriously, releasing his hand so he can crank his window open. "Except for a chocolate milkshake. I want two of those."

Gale ignores me, shifting in his seat to grab the wallet out of his back pocket. "Hi," he says to the speaker. "I'd like to order?"

The black box just sits there, and no voice comes out of it offering me a deal on a jumbo bacon burger. I'm immediately irritated. And hungry.

"Hello?" Gale says loudly.

"Maybe it's broken," I say.

"Just shut up," he tells me. "Hello?"

Still silence.

"You suck at picking drive-throughs-" I start, but he cuts me off.

"_Hello_?"

"It's broken."

"HELLO?"

"Gale-"

"I"M FUCKING HUNGRY YOU MECHANICAL PIECE OF SHIT-"

"GALE!"

I grab his shoulder, fighting the urge to laugh at his facial expression. He looks so disappointed. "Let's just go inside."

He reluctantly backs the truck into the parking lot, picking a spot directly in front of the door. We're about two spots away from a well-kept Jeep Wrangler, which is the only other car visible in the lot. The cold air slaps me in the face as I get out of the truck, and I'm wishing I would have had enough foresight to bring a coat when Gale's heavy jacket falls on my shoulders. I slip it on gratefully.

"I'll be in the bathroom," I tell Gale as we walk through the door. The bright florescents immediately give me a pounding headache. "Just order me what you get."

"Okay," he says.

The bathroom here is much nicer than at any fast-food chain we have in Panem. When I'm washing my hands I find that I have the choice between two differently-scented soaps, and the counter and the sink both look brand-new. I chance a peek at myself in the mirror, unsurprised to see that I look like living death. My skin is pale, my hair is a mess, and my face in general just looks worn out and tired. Gale's jacket hangs from my bony frame. I hastily re-braid my hair, and pinch my cheeks to bring some color back in them. There's nothing I can do about my eyes, however, which remain bloodshot and telling of the fact that I'm still intoxicated. Oh well, I honestly don't give a damn anymore.

When I exit the bathroom, I find Gale waiting for me with two bags in his hand. "Just waiting on the milkshakes," he says.

I stand next to him as we wait, pressing my face into his shoulder to block out the unfairly-bright lights. When they're finally ready, I grab them from the girl behind the counter and spin on my heel to leave. Gale leads the way, and I follow, but not before I make eye-contact with the only other person on this side of the counter. A boy about our age, with messy blonde hair and blue eyes that are bright even from all the way across the room. His table is empty of everything but a set of car keys and a cup of coffee. I didn't notice him when I came in, even though just the quickest glance tells me that he's been here awhile. What makes me unable to look away are the tear-tracks that are visible on his cheeks, and the slumped posture of his shoulders. He stares at me as I walk out the door, boring those blue eyes into my grey ones with a strange intensity. I can feel them watch me as I climb back into the truck, and though it's impossible, I can't shake the feeling that he's still watching me as Gale pulls back onto the main road.

**This chapter was just the prologue of this story, so expect the upcoming chapters to be much longer. Find me on tumblr. I'm peetamellarkc. **


	2. News

**This story is now on AO3! My pen name there is fuckinghawthorne.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, they'd be doing much more interesting things than being this angsty. Example: they would make a kickass human chess team. **

By the time Gale pulls into my duplex's driveway, I can barely keep my eyes open. A glance at the dash's clock tells me that it's nearing two a.m.; well past my eleven o'clock curfew.

It doesn't matter. Dad's long stopped expecting me to follow that rule. Or maybe he just doesn't care anymore.

"I hope you're feeling better," Gale yawns, stretching his arms above his head. I have to scoot forward to avoid getting punched in the face.

"I think... I think I am," I say slowly. "Thanks."

He gives me a long look. "Are you going to be okay?"

It's hard to lie to my best friend. But it's not impossible. "Yeah."

"You're lying," he says immediately. "You're a shitty liar, Katniss."

I roll my eyes at him, but it's so dark in the cab I doubt he can see it. "What about you?" I ask him, leaning my head back on the seat. "I'm still drunk, and you drank way more than I did. Are you gonna be able to drive home?"

He shrugs. "I drove all the way to Capitol and back didn't I?"

He's so cavalier about it, it bothers me. That's how I know that I'm home. The thrill of tearing out of town with Gale is always replaced with a growing sense of dread once we start in on the return trip. Now that I'm back and sobering up a little, my sense of invincibility has worn off. It's so stupid, anyways, doing this. We could have died. I don't care so much about my own death as much as I care about his. That's one funeral I hope to never have to attend.

"I don't want you driving," I tell him. "S'too risky."

Gale gives me the most patronizing look I've ever seen on his face. "I live three blocks away."

I scowl at him. "You're staying the night. Get out of the truck."

I don't look behind me as I slide out of the seat. I know he'll follow me. My feet stumble up the slanted walk and I nearly fall into the rosebush. The slam of Gale's door and the silence of his previously-roaring truck proves that I was right.

Once I get to the darkened porch, I have to bring out my phone for light. "Shit- I forgot my keys!" I say loudly, searching through my pockets. Gale breezes past me.

"I've got mine."

He opens the front door as slowly as possible, which does nothing to quiet the creak of its hinges. I wince at the noise and pray to whatever God that dumped me here that it doesn't wake my sister. If she caught me sneaking into the house this late at night again, there'd be hell to pay.

"Night," says Gale, making a beeline for the couch. He flops onto it without even bothering to take off his shoes. I inch the front door closed behind me and lock it tightly, leaving my flip flops by the entry way. I don't want to go to bed. Not yet. I'm tired- exhausted even, but the sleep I know I'm about to get will be anything but restful.

I take my time to go to bed; wandering aimlessly into the kitchen and filling a glass full of water. Then another. And another. The floor squeaks between my bare feet, and I stare down at the scratched linoleum. If only this floor could talk. I know the saying is supposed to be about walls, but honestly that seems a little backwards to me. The floor is where the people are. The walls can only _see_ everything. The floor has to feel it.

We've only lived in this house for five years, but that would give the floor plenty to say. Just two months ago, when Mom walked out, this floor was the last piece of our lives that she touched. She stomped out of the house, dragging along her heavy suitcases and bags, and this floor had to take the brunt of it. "Why even last week," the carpet could say, "Prim collapsed on me after she realized Rose wasn't coming back." It's true, too. Prim had held onto the irrational belief that Mom loved her enough to come back for a long time. After awhile, Dad and I stopped trying to convince her of the truth. Mom's never coming back.

And we're better off for it.

I don't know how long I'm wrapped up in my own weird thoughts, but eventually I put my glass in the sink. Gale's still on the couch, legs outstretched and practically falling off of the tiny thing. I walk over to him, stopping at his head. He looks so peaceful like this.

He has a strong face.

I don't mean that in the romantic way- the love I feel for Gale is anything but. What I mean is, looking down at his face like this, he looks... strong. I brush some of his hair out of his eyes. It's brown, like mine. It's hard to see in the dim light, but bruises frame his face. I see them everyday, but they still make me sick. He won't forgive himself for sleeping over here in the morning; he never does. Every moment he's away from home is a moment when his step-dad could go after his siblings. I carefully trace a bruise on his cheek, directly under his eye. "I had to jump in front of Posy," Gale had explained to me yesterday. It seemed that in a fit of rage Clark hadn't even spared the youngest of the Hawthornes. Gale does everything he can to protect his brothers, mother, and sister, but I know how the bruises tally up on them. It's terrible. And Gale is powerless to stop it. He shifts in his sleep so I pull my hand away. I slip out of his jacket, and drape it over him. I go behind the couch and stand in front of his shoes, gently pulling them off. They drop on the floor with a dull _clump_, and then finally, reluctantly, I head to bed.

* * *

><p>"Katniss get up!"<p>

My room slowly comes into focus as I open my eyes. The morning sun leaks through my blinds, casting grey-white light onto my pillow. Prim's voice rings from the hallway. "Katniss!"

I sigh and sit up. My back is stiff, my head hurts, and my mouth tastes like I've been sucking on my foot all night. Not a perfect morning. I shake images from my nightmare from my mind- I can't even remember the details of it, just that it was a bad one. Prim's impatient voice calls me again. "What?" I try to say, but my voice isn't working. I cough and try again. "Prim? What?!" Of course she doesn't answer me.

I search through my covers for my phone, eventually finding it near my foot. The time says nine o' clock, which means that I actually got a pretty decent amount of sleep. I almost never wake up this late on a Saturday.

"Kat_niss!"_ Prim shouts, drawing out the last syllable in my name. She bangs through the hallway and past my door.

_"What?_" I yell back, dragging myself out of bed. I nearly trip on a pile of clothes when I cross my room. Throwing open my door, I go downstairs into the kitchen where Prim sits, sitting on the counter and staring at me expectantly. I throw a glance at the couch, unsurprised to find it empty.

"Good morning," she says calmly.

Her long blonde hair is piled into a loose bun on the top of her head, and she's wearing one of my old sweatshirts and yoga pants. She swings her legs idly against the counter before folding them under herself. "What?" I repeat.

"I'm hungry."

"So?" I say. "Did you wake me up just to tell me that?" I have to admit that I put a little more anger in my words than I probably should have. I'm still a little upset about the blowup she had at me yesterday afternoon.

Prim rolls her eyes. "No, you idiot. I woke you up so we could have breakfast together."

I sigh loudly. "Fine," I say. "What do you want?" She grins at me, jumping down from the counter.

"Eggs," she says. "And bacon. And pancakes!"

She busies herself around the kitchen, pulling out plates and frying pans. Prim seems to be in an easy-going mood, so different from last night. I have to remind myself that she can't help it; that these mood-swings of hers can't be controlled, only dealt with. And, because she's my baby sister and I can't deny her anything, I pull some food from the fridge and pile it by the stove.

"Do you have any plans today?" I ask her distractedly. I don't really care about the answer. I have no interest in knowing about which low-lives she plans to meet up with today, or knowing about whatever trouble she wants to get up to. I used to care. At least I can say that.

"Nope," Prim says brightly. She watches me mix the instant-pancake mix with water. "Just homework."

"Where's Dad?" I ask as if I don't already know.

"Work. He left at six."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "How do you know? Were you up at six?"

She smiles at me innocently. "Yes," she says. "I was up at two, too." Her smile widens.

Oh God. Here it is. "Why?" I sigh.

"I don't know..." Prim says slowly. "My sister wasn't home, for one thing."

I ignore her, flipping a pancake.

"I also was told by an unknown source," she continues, "That Gale wasn't at _his_ house, either."

I narrow my eyes at her. "Was that _source_ Rory?"

Prim rolls her eyes. "No."

"You're such a liar," I mutter. I grab the spatula from the counter and press down on the pancake. The dough bubbles around the edges- not done.

"And _you're _such a hypocrite!" Prim exclaims. "_Don't go out late at night, Prim,_" she mocks. She lowers her voice cartoonishly deep. "_Never ride in cars with boys, Prim. Don't fuck people until you're eighteen, Prim."_

"What the fuck are you implying?!" I snap. "I don't _fuck _people, Prim. Let alone Gale!"

She snorts. "Like you and Gale could ever be a thing." She wisely moves out of my arm's reach, staring at me maliciously from across the counter. "I meant the boys at the parties you go to. Duh."

I honestly don't even recognize my sister anymore. She's always been a little sideways, but the abandonment by Rose really fucked her up. For the last two months, she's been nothing but a nightmare. She fights with me, she fights with Dad, she even fights with Gale. I've been trying not to lower myself to her level, but now Prim's taken to attacking people where it hurts. "I'm done talking to you," I say abruptly. I slam the spatula on the counter, splattering drops of pancake mix everywhere. "Eat your food alone." I leave before I can say something I'll regret.

"Katniss!" Prim calls, but I'm already down the stairs. I stalk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I decide to take a shower, and when I get out, I'm feeling slightly more human, although I'm still mad. Prim knows exactly how to push my buttons. They might as well be hers.

I wrap a towel around myself and walk through the hallway, rolling my eyes when I pass Prim's door. Her shitty music blasts through it, and I know that if I go in there I'll find her doing who-knows-what on her computer. Dad should have never bought her the thing.

My phone is still on my bed when I get in the room, and I check it out of habit. I have two new messages, one from Dad and one from Gale. They and Prim are honestly the only people I text, so I'm not surprised.

_"Rise and shine,"_ Dad's message says. _"Can you watch out for Prim today? I won't be home until at least seven. You may have to make dinner, sorry. Love you girls." _

I type out a quick _"Love you too,"_ to Dad before I read Gale's text.

_"Got home safe,"_ it says. _"I left at the same time your dad did; I was blocking him in. Hope you feel better Catnip." _

I reply to him, asking if everything's okay at his house. Prim's music is audible even through the walls, they're that thin. I'm surprised our neighbor isn't beating on the wall again.

I devote the rest of the morning to cleaning my room, a technique that I know helps calm me down after a fight. I hate arguing with my sister. I hate it with a passion. If only she didn't make it so difficult to get along with her. When she was a kid, she was so much nicer. The kids at her elementary school would take advantage of her all the time for that, and would pick on her whenever they could get the chance. They would ostracize her on purpose, and make her the subject of their cruel jokes. I find it sick, the way that kids talk to each other. They're so mean. Part of me is glad that Prim toughened up, but the majority of me wishes she hadn't done it quite so _much._ I know I shouldn't say this about my own sister, but I don't think I 'll ever get rid of the little part of myself that thinks that Prim knows damn well what she's doing.

It's almost one o' clock before I emerge from my room. I can't get it any cleaner than it already is, and I'm cooled off enough to not want to cuss Prim out if I see her. I steel my mind, reminding myself to be cordial to her. _She can't help it._ When I open my door, I almost end up breaking my foot. Prim's left me a present on the floor: a plate of pancakes and bacon and eggs that she must have cooked herself. A scrap of paper lies next to the plate, and I pick it up. _"I'm sorry,"_ it reads.

My heart kind of melts a little bit. Prim always does this. She screams, she yells, she picks you apart with her words and then an hour later she'll come running back with her tail between her legs. I never know what to do in these situations. Dad says to forgive her, that that's the only thing to do, but I'm never so sure. Honestly, I'm not the forgiving type. Still, I retreat into my room to grab a pen, flip the paper over, and scrawl _"It's okay," _on the back. I lay it on the floor in front of her door, where the music still beats. I have to throw the food in the garbage though, it's too old to eat.

The rest of the day is entirely uneventful, and I barely see Prim at all. She sticks to her room and and I roam around the house, reliving last night. I really need to stop driving drunk with Gale- it's too dangerous. I text Gale and make him promise me that we'll only be sober-driving from now on- he agrees.

We'll see how long that pact lasts.

It's odd, actually, that the one thing I can't get out of my mind is probably the most inconsequential thing that happened last night. The boy in the restaurant. There was something _strange _about him. I can't put my finger on it. I have this irrational feeling that he wasn't just looking at me for no reason when I was leaving with Gale. It's weird that he was looking at me at all- I mean most people tend to avoid eye contact with me whenever possible. I'm "intimidating", according to Gale, and as a result people try to avoid me.

Maybe I'm just unnerved because the guy was crying. He was _more _ than crying- he was distraught. It looked like his eyes were _out _of tears, and the only remains of them that were left were the tracks shining on his cheeks. I don't know why I do it, but I text Gale asking him what he thinks. I try to fit it casually into our conversation, but I know that he can tell it's forced.

_"Maybe he just broke up with his girlfriend," _Gale replies. _"The guy seemed pretty normal to me. I don't know."_

_"He was staring at me," _I text back. I send him another. _"It was weird." _

_"People stare at you all the time," _Gale responds. _"Maybe he thought you were pretty, or that he knew you. It's not a big deal." _

I change the topic of conversation after that, and soon I forget about the boy altogether. The evening passes slowly, and I'm just about to drag Prim out of her room to help me cook dinner when the doorbell rings.

This is weird. Nobody comes to our house unless they live here or they're a Hawthorne. I don't think I've ever even heard the doorbell since we moved in. Prim pokes her head out from the top of the stairs, looking at me warily.

"Maybe it's an axe murderer," she says.

I roll my eyes. "Don't be stupid."

The doorbell rings again. I try to peek out the door's side window at whoever it is when I walk towards the door, but all I can really see through the curtain is that it's getting darker outside. The sky is a dull blue color. I pull open the door as Prim walks up behind me.

"Hello?" I say.

Three people I've never seen in my life are standing on my doorstep. Two men and a woman. The woman, who's standing closest to the door, smiles at me coldly. "Are you the resident here?"

Her brown eyes appraise me up and down, and for some stupid reason I feel embarrassed to be wearing my ratty old _Pink Floyd _t-shirt. "Yes," I say slowly. I notice that all three people are dressed in sharp business attire and are carrying scary-looking paperwork. "Although I think you may want the owner of the property. Mr. Heavensbee lives on the other side of the duplex."

The man behind the woman and to the left, a tall, broad-shouldered man with greying hair, clears his throat. "Actually, we're looking for a Miss Katniss Everdeen?"

"That's me," I say. "Uh... do you need anything?"

The last man, a small-framed Indian man with the greenest eyes I've ever seen, pipes up. "We work for Capitol Country Club," he says. "May we come in?"

I'm confused, and my face must show it. "We have some very important things to discuss, Miss Everdeen," the woman says. She talks as if she thinks she's helping clarify the matter.

"Uh... you should- you should wait until my Dad comes home." I say slowly. "I can't just let you in right now..."

"Sure we can!" Prim says from behind me. She shoulders her way in front of me. "Come on in. My name is Prim, nice to meet you!"

"Prim!" I hiss, pulling her behind me. She smiles at me innocently. The three people stand on the porch uncomfortably, obviously unsure of what to do.

"What time will your father be home?" the woman asks. "We can arrange to come back then."

"Sometime late tonight," I say. "Maybe eight or nine. What time is it now? Seven?"

"Seven-thirty," the Indian man says. "Perhaps we can come by tomorrow to discuss?"

"This is somewhat of a sensitive issue," the other man says. "We're sorry if we're disturbing you."

"We know this is an awkward time of day to be here," the woman adds.

I just stare at them. "Um, okay," I say. "Come back tomorrow, then?"

The woman digs around in her pocket, seemingly looking for something. "I'll just give you our card," she says. "If I can find it..."

"I've got it right here," says a fourth, previously unspoken voice. A boy steps out from behind the broad-shouldered man and hands the woman a card. I had completely overlooked him. His blue eyes flash to mine and then stay there, the proffesionalism in them draining away to puzzlement.

It's the same boy from last night.

"Here you go," the woman says brightly, pushing her card at me. "We'll arrange a time to see you tomorrow, then."

The boy continues to stare at me, and I stare right back. I'm sure I look ridiculous, standing here gawking. I step backwards and hold open the door. "You know what," I say. "Come in. Please."

The boy smiles.

**This is just a little note to let you all know that I'll be moving tomorrow, and since I'm not sure when I'll get WiFi again, I don't know when the next update will be. Hopefully you all can bear with me as I get settled in. Hope you liked this first full chapter. Please let me know what you think in the reviews. Oh, and to the person who reviewed last night and asked whether this'll be an everlark or everthorne fic, here's your answer: 100% everlark. Find me on tumblr. I'm peetamellarkc.**


	3. Lottery

**Disclaimer: These are pointless to write after the first one, but I think they're kind of fun. Katniss would agree with me, I'm sure. IF I OWNED HER. Sadly, I don't. Nor any other thg character and/or component of their universe. I DO own a badass movie collection, though. **

It's obvious that these people don't belong in my house. They're crammed together on the sofa, leaving Prim and I to drag in three extra chairs from the kitchen in order to afford enough room for everyone. The woman, who sits so far forward on the couch that it seems as if she's hovering over the edge of it, keeps wrinkling her nose and glancing around. She looks like she's fighting the urge to run away.

"Thank you for inviting us in," the tall man says for the second time.

"Uh-huh," I say distractedly. I heave the last chair into the living room, and the boy sinks down onto it gracefully.

"Thanks," he says politely.

This guy is weird. He went from prolonged eye contact to avoiding looking at me altogether. Even now, he casts his eyes on the floor instead of meeting mine. I choose the chair that's farthest away from him, on the other side of the coffee table. "You're welcome," I say.

Prim sits between us, drumming her fingers on the sides of her chair. She stares unashamedly at the trio on the couch, who smile at her in various stages of awkwardness.

The Indian man clears his throat. "My name is Raj Gowda," he says. "I used to work for your grandparents."

"We all did," says the woman. "I'm Effie Trinket, and this is Evan Mellark."

The broad-shouldered man smiles. He looks like he's had more practice at it compared to the other two. "It's a pleasure to meet you two," he says genuinely. "This is my son, Peeta." Evan gestures to the boy on the chair.

"Hi," Peeta says. He glances up at me from across the table, but quickly looks away.

"So... can I help you with anything?" I say slowly. "I still don't know why any of you are here."

Raj smiles but it quickly falls from his face. "This is a bit of an uncomfortable situation..." he says. "Um... Well..."

Effie Trinket places a hand on his knee to quiet him. "We're very sorry to tell you this, Katniss. And to you," she says to Prim. A pregnant pause fills the air. "But... Well, your grandparents are dead." She rushes her words out very quickly. "I'm so sorry."

Prim gasps, but I just stare at her. "Okay," I say.

Effie blinks at me uncertainly. "They died yesterday afternoon while traveling from London to Capitol."

She keeps on talking, but I can't focus on her words. My attention's all for Prim, who's face is shining with tears. She looks over at me, her hair hanging down as she turns her head. I'm about to open my mouth to comfort her when she sprints from the room, jumping over Peeta's legs to get to the stairs.

"Prim!" I call, but she's gone. Evan frowns at the floor, while Raj and Effie stare solemnly at me. Peeta's the only one who bothers to talk.

"We should give you two a minute," he says quietly.

I run after Prim, flying up the five steps that separate the ground floor from our bedrooms. Prim's door is shut tightly, an obvious sign that she doesn't want to be disturbed. I open it anyways.

"Primrose?" I whisper, but she can't hear me. She's sitting as far up on her bed as she can, with her back pressed up against the wall. Her over-the-head headphones blast music into her ears. Her knees, which are tucked into her chest, support her head. She cries into her knees loudly, rocking back and forth as though she's trying to soothe herself.

"Prim..." I say, crawling onto her bed with her. She hides her face from me, pressing the volume button on her phone to turn her music even louder.

Gently, I reach up and tug the headphones off. She lets me, but continues to cry. I take the phone from her hand, and throw it to the foot of the bed. "Come here," I say calmly. "Come on."

I grab my sister by the shoulders and gently pull her into my chest, letting her soak my shirt with her tears. She holds onto me tightly. "T-they're _dead_?" she cries.

I don't answer her, choosing instead to rub small circles into her back. "I'm so sorry, Prim," I say.

To tell the truth, I'm nowhere near as upset about my grandparent's death as Prim is. Lila and William Steward favored her far more than they ever favored me. When I was little, they didn't even believe that I was a legitimate child of their daughter's. My parents marriage was an unhappy one, and apparently my father used to stay out at night when being at home with Rose came to be too much. When I was a baby, my grandparents lived in Europe, and never saw my mother pregnant. They didn't even meet my father until I was three months old. My mother said that the first time they visited the Everdeen family, they hated us both. My father was lacking in the monetary department, and failed to meet any of the expectations that my grandparents had for him. They were so desperate for a way to provide an escape for their daughter from her situation, they accused me of being only my father's. Not Rose's. It's ridiculous, honestly, that they would jump to that conclusion. Even after Rose showed them pregnancy photos and they had no choice but to concede, they had never viewed me as highly as they viewed Prim. She was their golden child; a girl who undoubtedly belonged to their daughter. They have the same hair, same body, same eyes. They're the complete opposite of me. While they're tall and fair, I'm short and have a darker complexion. I take entirely after my dad, which was why they hated me so much.

Prim locks herself around me, tucking her sock-feet under her covers. "Why did they go, Katniss?" she sobs. "Why did Mom go?"

"I don't know," I say. I stroke her hair lightly, and try to make my voice sound empathetic. "It just happens. People go."

"Everybody leaves me," Prim cries.

I sigh. "I don't."

She continues to cry into my chest, all in the memory of people who treated half of her family as worse than garbage. "I have to go back out there," I say to her eventually. It breaks my heart, seeing her like this. I know that the Stewards didn't deserve her tears, but just the fact that they're falling down her face makes me sad. "You stay in bed," I tell her. "I'll be back once they leave."

I re-enter the living room slowly, reluctant to talk to these strangers alone. They don't belong here, and I'd rather not have to pretend to be sad about my grandparents in front of them.

Luckily, I don't have to.

My dad stands behind the couch, still dressed in his security guard uniform. "Hi, Katniss," he says. I can tell he doesn't quite know how to approach me. His face is strained with stress and worry, and he runs a hand over it tiredly.

"Did you hear?" I can tell already that he knows. He must. He looks worriedly over my shoulder in the direction of Prim's room.

"Yeah," he says. I walk into his outstretched arms and he gives me a brief hug. "Sorry, honey."

"I'm okay," I shrug. Effie Trinket looks a little shocked when I say that. "Prim's the one who's not."

"Once again," Evan Mellark says, "We're sorry for the way that we had to spring this news on you all."

Dad takes a seat where I previously was, leaving me to take Prim's place. Besides me, Peeta crosses his legs. His grey slacks are too short for his legs, revealing a matching set of thin black socks and the tops of his dress shoes. He wiggles his foot in the air restlessly.

"So you all worked for Lila and William?" my dad asks.

Raj nods. "Yes. I was their lawyer. Evan here was their notary public and attorney, and Peeta," he points, "Is Evan's son. He's only here today to observe."

"For educational purposes," Peeta adds. He smiles politely at my father.

"I'm the director of finances and events at Capitol Country Club," Effie Trinket says, "An esteemed organization on the outskirts of the Capitol." She recites this as though reading from a brochure. "Owned, as I'm sure you know, by Mr. and Mrs. Steward."

"_Owned?!"_ Dad and I exclaim simultaneously. He leans forward in his chair. "Owned, as in _their's_?"

"Yes," Effie says.

"Holy shit."

I almost laugh when my Dad says that. He looks at me in disbelief, his eyes wide. "Wow," I say.

"Didn't you know?" Effie asks.

We didn't.

"I knew they had a membership there," I say. "They would take my sister there all the time when she was a little kid."

"I'm sure that must have been fun for you both," Evan says.

"It was for her," I say. "I was never allowed to go."

Effie gives a polite little cough to break the awkward silence that occurred immediately after I said that. "Ahem," she says. "Well I think it's safe to say that you'll be going there now. Hand her the papers, please, Mr. Mellark."

I reach my hand out to Evan, but Peeta is the one who hands me the papers from on his lap. "Here," he says.

I take the stack of documents he hands me. "The paper on top is the last Will and Testament of Lila Steward and William Steward," Raj says. "Notarized by Mr. Mellark in June of last year."

"You notarized your own client's documents?" my Dad butts in. "Couldn't that suggest impropriety?"

Evan shrugged. "Lila and William came to me... discreetly," he says. "They wanted to include as little outsiders as possible in their will-making." He crosses his arms. "I assure you," he says. "It was a completely legal and fair process."

I look through the pages on my lap. All of the words are complex and confusing, apparently only decipherable by trained professionals. "What does it mean?" I say. As I flip through the pages, I see numerous highlighted portions.

"They listed you as the heir to their estate," Effie says simply. She smiles at me warmly. "As well as the owner of all of their properties. Of course, that includes their townhouse in London and the Capitol Country Club itself."

I freeze.

My Dad gasps, staring at Effie in disbelief. "There m-must be some kind of error," he stutters. "You.. what... _everything_?"

"Everything," Effie nods.

Dad looks at me incredulously, gaping at me and opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. I stare right back, for some reason feeling a strange disconnect between my mind and my body.

"This is big news," I say calmly.

Then I fall out of my chair.

* * *

><p>When I come to, I'm lying on the floor of my living room, staring up at the dusty ceiling.<p>

"Katniss? Katniss, are you awake?"

Gentle hands cradle my head, resting it on the knees of whoever's holding me. "Hello?" they say.

I groan, shutting my eyes tight. "What the fu-" I say, struggling to lift my body off the floor.

Strong hands push on my back, helping me into a sitting position.

"Are you okay?" It's Peeta who's holding me up. His mouth is twisted in an amused smile, and I can't help but feel like he's mocking me for passing out.

"M'fine," I mutter.

I rub my head and look around. Effie remains seated on the couch, while Raj sorts through paperwork with Evan. They're looking away pointedly; probably to avoid gawking at me on the floor and causing me embarrassment.

Not that there's a lack of _that_.

"Let's get you up, Katniss," my Dad says. He's holding onto my right shoulder. "Come on,"

Together, my father and Peeta lift me up and help me stand. They lead me back to my chair, holding me up firmly with their hands.

"Thanks," I say weakly.

"No problem," Peeta says. He's still smiling, which irritates me more than it probably should. My Dad claps me on the back and then leaves me alone, heading into the kitchen.

Peeta, for some reason, keeps his hand on my shoulder. "I said I'm okay," I hint, looking up at him. His blue eyes look even better close up. I hate to admit it. They're bright blue with a darker ring around the pupil. They look at his hand on me, and widen in embarrassment.

"Oh," he says, "Sorry."

He lets me go.

Evan clears his throat. "You okay there, Katniss?"

I nod, and my head spins. "Yeah.." I say, "I'm just... wow."

"This is big news," Peeta says innocently from his chair. There we go. Now I _know _he's making fun.

My dad hands me a glass of water. "I'm going to go check on your sister," he says. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. I just... haven't eaten today. I was feeling a little dizzy." I take the glass of water from him. My stomach rumbles audibly, and I groan. Great.

Either nobody heard or they're pretending not to have noticed. "We have lots of important things to discuss," Effie says to me. "Finances, properties, events... I think it's best if we come back tomorrow to discuss. It's getting late, and you need time to digest things."

"Okay," I say. My brain is going about a million miles a minute. It's all I can do to make plans to meet with her tomorrow at the country club, and settle on an appointment time. Who knew that a "director of finances and events" at a stupid country club could have such a tight schedule?

Effie, Raj, and Evan all file obediently out my front door, which I hold open for them. They say their polite goodbyes, and Effie pulls a set of keys out of her purse. The black luxury car in the driveway beeps loudly. Peeta is the last out the door. He's still smiling that irritating smile at me.

"Goodbye," he says quietly, looking me in the eyes. He gives one last look around the house,_ surveying_ it almost.

"Goodbye," I say coldly.

I stand at the open front door until their car has long since disappeared down the road.

* * *

><p>"<em>WHAT THE FUCK?"<em>

Gale's text lights up my screen, and I read it while applying toothpaste to my toothbrush.

_"KATNISS. WHAT. THE. FUCK." _

I sigh and stare into the mirror, brushing my teeth slowly. Everyone else is in bed, and I've only just now told Gale about what happened a few hours ago. The text I sent him was so long that it had to be separated into four different messages. As I expected, he ends up calling me.

"'Ello?" I say around my toothbrush.

"What's going on?" Gale's voice is calm, but I can tell that he's trying to hold back his excitement and curiosity.

"I un da lo'erry," I say sarcastically.

"What?"

I spit into the sink and rinse my toothbrush. "I won the fucking lottery."

"I don't understand," he says. "Your grandparents just... died?"

"Pwane crah,"

"What?"

"PLANE CRASH," I say.

"Why wasn't it on the news?" Gale wonders. He's got to be the only eighteen year old boy in Panem who regularly watches the news on television.

"It was a private plane. I don't know," I say.

I walk into my bedroom and close the door tightly. "You own a private plane now?" Gale's voice is still eerily calm. I can picture him pacing back and forth in his back yard: the only place in his house where he's warranted at least a little privacy.

"Not if it's in the ocean," I say, sitting on the edge of my bed. I stare out the window, looking at the trees waving in the wind. Their skeletal outlines are barely distinguishable from the black sky.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"It's okay," I say automatically.

"How's Prim?" he asks. He must already have a clue.

"Crying," I say. "Angry. She called me a bitch three times during dinner alone."

"I'm sorry," Gale says genuinely.

"It's okay," I repeat.

All of a sudden, I hear angry screaming from the other end of the line. "Gale? Is that Clark?"

He's already hung up.

I sigh, trying not to picture the scene at Gale's house. I wish I had a car. If I had that then it would be a simple matter to just drive over there and take Gale and his family away.

But I don't, and I can't.

I refuse to let myself think about the events of this evening.

"_Don't think about it." _I tell myself. "_Don't think about it." _

I do my best to fall asleep, but I just can't. My mind keeps darting between thinking of Gale and worrying about his situation, and the hatred my sister had on her face when she yelled at me at dinner tonight. Not to mention the tears that fell from it. My dad had given me a warning look over the lasagna, and so I bit my tongue. Within minutes, Prim was shaking with laughter at a stupid joke my Dad had cracked, and everything was fine.

Everything was _fine_.

I can't think about Prim either. I pull my covers over my face and breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. I feel like I'm about to cry, which is stupid. Crying is ridiculous, in my opinion. Nothing ever gets solved by crying.

My mind wanders to someone I've been trying to avoid thinking of since he left my house. Peeta Mellark. I picture his stupid blonde head in my mind, imagining the messy blond curls that spill onto his forehead. I can still see his mocking smile, and the insanely-expensive suit he had on today. Ugh, I don't know why a complete and utter stranger could have such an effect on me. Maybe it's just because of the way I first saw him. Tears dripping down his face... the pain in his eyes...

_"Don't think about it," _I tell myself. _"Don't think about it." _

**Hope you all enjoyed the third chapter! I had to steal someone's WiFi to write it. My new house still doesn't have WiFi, but I'll keep writing so I have material ready to go once I get it. Find me on tumblr. I'm peetamellarkc. **


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